


"Clearing the Air"

by Hundreds



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundreds/pseuds/Hundreds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard receives a request in the arena to take on some Cerberus agents, and who else would he call?  Just a quick, essentially plotless little fic that's written mostly for the porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Clearing the Air"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicbeast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicbeast/gifts).



> _Commander:_
> 
> _I have nothing but respect for your military service, but not all of my associates share this view. They have heard rumors you worked with Cerberus –_

 

The email pinged into his message center in the arena, and at first, Shepard wasn’t quite sure _what_ to do with it.  His time with Cerberus would always hang like a specter over his head, that dark part of his past that he wouldn’t be able to shake, no matter what he did.  He wouldn’t ever be able to fully shake the Illusive Man’s influence, the grafts and cybernetics a constant reminder that he’d been brought back from the dead.  The old scars gone, replaced by new ones, signs he could see in the mirror that he wasn’t the same John Shepard who’d convinced Saren to stop himself with his own weapon.

            It was the kind of thought that kept him up at night, with the soft glow of his fish tank and the hum of the Normandy underneath him in his bed.  It was the kind of thing he had to dwell on then, not now.   Mind, with the reapers impeding on the galaxy every moment, it was difficult to think about just shooting down fake simulations, even if the practice was never a bad thing.  If it had been three years ago, when they were only investigating the Geth, it would have made more sense, but with the Reapers?

            But Joker had given him no choice in the matter.  They were staying overnight, the Normandy had maintenance that _had_ to be completed, and EDI had agreed that Shepard needed at least one night off from the reports, the council, the Alliance, and everyone else around them.  They’d forced him out, so what did a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word “relax” do?  He shot things.  He shot lots of things.  The problem was, right now, they wanted a show, and while normally Shepard ignored the damn things, pleasing fans wasn’t really something he’d shown an interest in, he started to tap away at the arena’s settings, putting in an order, and sending a message to have someone help him out, even while he rubbed at his chin.  A new habit, one he’d taken up since coming back from the dead, warmth of his cybernetics, the sharp orange glow something he couldn’t hide, unless he wanted to dump the credits into it – _valuable_ credits – so he hadn’t.  They’d never faded, either.  He’d laughed about it with Chakwas once, that he hadn’t been thinking enough happy thoughts – something difficult to do these days.

            “Military friends”, they’d asked for, and while James was a good soldier, he had no experience with Cerberus.  Not like the rest of them did, and there wasn’t that same gravity that there was when they fought with them, not like there was when it was him and –

            “Did you need something, Commander?” And speak of the devil, there he was.  Prompt, as always, when it came to Major Alenko.  He’d practically strode into the arena like it was a familiar, comfortable battlefield, already decked in armor, looking confident, _at home_ in it.  In short, he looked _good_ , but Kaidan always did, didn’t he?  The Major leaned against the guardrail, hands folding over his stomach, while he tipped his head to look at the controls.  “You really can’t take a day off, can you?” he asked, a low thread of humor crept into his voice, even while his eyes tracked across the screen, taking in the details.  Alenko wasn’t stupid, after all.  He knew what the screen meant, and his eyebrows quirked, in an unspoken question.  He didn’t have to ask it, Shepard could read it on his face, and he explained on the way to the lockers, that confident smile tossed over his shoulder said enough.

            Kaidan followed, and listened, while Shepard suited up, about how this was supposed to be a carefully crafted way of making sure that people could see that the Alliance was superior to Cerberus.  He didn’t mention, of course, that in some way, he had something to prove, to clear his name.  He was sure Kaidan could pick up on that easily enough, he knew him well, after all.  All the while, he listened, although he asked why James wasn’t coming along, and Shepard had to be careful on that one.  While some of it _was_ just that James didn’t have as much of a dog in the fight against Cerberus, more of it was that Kaidan _did_ have a bone to pick with them, and maybe a part of him wanted to cement into Kaidan’s head that he and Cerberus had nothing to do with each other.  He wasn’t just convincing millions of viewers, he was convincing _him_.

            He knew he didn’t have to, or he assumed he didn’t have to.  Kaidan had believed him on the Citadel, before, and they’d spoken at length, at Apollo’s, after they’d – well, Shepard knew better than to think on _that_ when they neared battle, but Kaidan had gotten the hint, that Shepard had been aiming to do something between the _two_ of them.  He didn’t say it, but the way his brown eyes looked at Shepard said enough, that he was almost going to laugh.  His expression said it, in that way that two soldiers could read each other on the battlefield, too in tune to miss it, when he tipped his head, like he was asking Shepard if he was trying to ask him out on a _date_?

            Well, the soldier’s version of a date, maybe, but Shepard just snapped his armor into place, and ordered Kaidan out onto the arena, and he followed. He always had deferred so easily to Shepard’s influence, after all.  Shepard was the natural leader, while Kaidan had crafted his over the years when Shepard was dead – or with Cerberus.

            A grim reminder, which put him well enough in the mood to take them down, and waves of Cerberus troops were just the thing that both Shepard _and_ Kaidan could use to take out any frustration.  Or at least some.

            And they worked well together, they always had.  Shepard’s charges and shotgun shots were biting and loud, while Kaidan’s subtle reaves often held the enemy before Shepard hit them, explosions taking down the line left and right.  Most biotics seemed to always set off some kind of explosion, but his biotics always worked well with Shepard’s.  They shouldn’t be surprised, honestly that the explosions were big.  The scent of exhaust from their guns and the acrid tang of biotic power was enough to get his blood pumping, and he could see it from Kaidan too, movement fluid, when they dove behind a stack of crates, both of them leaning around opposite ends to pick off one, before another group started to appear, and Shepard took off, a line of electric blue light in his wake.  He already found the shields down on one, a different sort of electricity coursing over the armor, as he fell, the impact too much.

            The two of them, breathing just a touch hard, enough to show the exertion, looked around, when it was all over, Kaidan rubbing a gloved hand over sweaty hair, and Shepard eyeing the scoreboard, before he flicked a smile Kaidan’s way.  He looked good, like that, a slight flush on his cheeks from the workout, him nearly dancing with unbridled energy.  He nudged him back to the lockers, barely paying attention to the email pinging on his terminal, his lips quirked in a smile while Kaidan set aside the weapon, giving Shepard a look.

            “That was –“ _fun_?  _Different_?  There were a lot of possibilities, and none of them were what Kaidan said, mostly because Shepard cut him off, stepping forward.  Hands on his shoulders, thumb running right along the edge, indicating what _he_ was thinking it had been.  The one bonus to having a membership with the arena was, he could have almost all of the adrenaline from a real fight, without the danger of it.  Meaning that the after-battle exhilaration would be taken care of, instead of just pumped into one endless battle after another.

            He smiled, instead, knowing that it always cracked his scars slightly, and he couldn’t be bothered to care right about now.  “Exciting?” he finished for him, leaning in, to brush his cheek against Kaidan’s, to lean in just a touch, enough that he could keep his words low, more a whisper against his skin.  “You looked good out there, Major.”

            Kaidan, of course, the ever-practical Kaidan, looked around the room, his eyes tracking, silent, and not responding, long enough, at least to determine that no, Armax Arsenals did _not_ keep cameras in their lockers.  A valid concern, and it was only after he could check, that he relaxed, even just a touch under Shepard’s attention, fingers slipping up to hold onto his hips.  There was something in Kaidan that always made Shepard feel like the nightmare out there was just a little further away, that they could just sit and be _people_ who were still trying to figure out the confusing mire of emotions between them.  That they could spend time together, fight their way through an arena, and then pretend that they were younger men in the lockers, necking over armor.

            Which is what the _both_ of them were trying to do, pressing lips against skin where they could find it, occasionally on the lips, occasionally the jaw, the chin, the neck, when they could slip lips on the edge of armor.

            Fingers clumsily started on armor, wherever they could find a catch, Shepard’s fingers exploring, finding the new catches and seams of Kaidan’s armor, Kaidan peeling away at Shepard’s, taking his time to explore as well.  They never separated, except to pull slightly away to breathe, and to let the largest pieces slide to the ground, the chest pieces shucked off almost first, so they could crash back into one another, their bodies hitting _hard_ when they did so, finding the small catches of skin, the places where they could stroke and scrape fingers against the surface.  Shepard was the first to feel cold air against underarmor, Kaidan’s fingers somehow more deft and quick than Shepard’s, but Kaidan’s fell apart just as easily, soon after.  Matching move for move, they slipped down to nothing but the bottom halves of their underarmor.

            And that made all the difference, their fingers and lips exploring every pathway, every scar, like each time they came together, they found new ways to rediscover the intricate maps of each other’s bodies.  Kaidan always deliberate, and methodical, Shepard always quick and fluid, intuitive.  It didn’t really matter how, though, when their fingers found the right spots to make them hiss through their teeth, or groan, and one of them would grit their teeth, sometimes Shepard, sometimes Kaidan, to keep from getting too loud.

            Eventually, Shepard led him back, leaving the armor for the moment, scattered at their feet, to the showers, where at least there was a modicum of privacy.  At least there, they wouldn’t have their fingers and lips on each other where someone could walk in at any time, and the relief of being somewhere with _some_ privacy was enough for Kaidan to loosen slightly, for Shepard, the tension slipping from his shoulders, the worry lines relaxing from his face.

            Kaidan’s hand slapped the shower controls, when they slipped in, their underarmor slipping off with hands sliding under, legs awkward when they kicked to get it off, the soft slip of fabric swallowed by the sound of the water hitting the floor, and from where one body or another crashed into the walls, while they slipped into the stall.

            The problem was, neither one of them wanted it fast or dirty, which was all they had the time for.  Showers were great for swallowing sound, but they only had so much water, and they couldn’t run it for too long, before maintenance would be in here to shut it off.  They had to be cautious – which was something two grown men shouldn’t have to do, and _wouldn’t_ if they hadn’t been trying to have sex in a semi-public space.  Then again, Shepard had always been able to pull Kaidan into making an unwise decision or two, with the right prompting.  This was, thankfully, one of those times.

            Kaidan’s fingers were deft, when he slid them across Shepard’s belly, slick from the water, when he slid down, to grip him, fingers closing in a loop, tugging to the head, before slipping back down, long, full strokes, from tip to base, taking him all the way, although Shepard certainly helped with that, his hips rolling to meet him all the way, jerk into his fingers, and Kaidan reacted in the predictable way, he _slowed_ his attentions, making sure that Shepard knew that he was more than willing to take his time, even here.  Or at least as much time as they _had_.  It wasn’t much, but Kaidan fully intended to milk it for as long as possible.

            Which should have been the sign, the obvious one, when Shepard started to miss Kaidan’s lips on his shoulders and neck, and his eyes opened again, blinking against the stream and heat of the shower, before his fingers kept trailing, against his skin, but Kaidan wasn’t there, not right at his eye-level anymore, instead his attentions slipped lower.

            Kiss by kiss, really, he trailed, until he was on his knees, looking up at Shepard, his lips quirked, a ghost of a smile, and his eyebrows dipped in that mischievous way that said he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, and that Shepard should just… _let_ him.

            Not that he was exactly going to stop him anytime soon.  Not with the way he looked, hovering over his cock, and his fingers still pumping, his tongue darting out at first, to lick against the head, when he pulled down.  Then again, this time his lips closed around the very tip, never taking more than a small taste in, while he continued to look up at Shepard.  Like he was daring him to stop, or at least daring him to do something to break the uncanny boldness that had possessed the major.

            He’d had no plans, in the slightest, but he opened his mouth to speak, say _something_ that sounded like ‘please’ but instead it was just a soft groan, when Kaidan’s lips formed around the head, tongue darting against the skin there, the heat in Shepard’s head – the vertigo that took him – enough to make him hold his hand out to brace himself against the wall.  One hand, of course, the other fell to his hair, to wind his fingers in the stiff, dark strands of his hair, weaving his way in there, to hold him tight, but never to wrest control.  He didn’t need to, apparently, with the way he took him, before he slid his mouth down, just a little lower, before bobbing back up, and then down again.

            _That_ had him jerking slightly, and Kaidan would pull back, and give him a look from heavily-hooded eyes, the curl of his lips just visible around his dick, and Shepard could almost _feel_ his body twitch at that.  He gasped out loud, when he slid down Shepard's cock again, this time his tongue – that expert tongue – factored into it somehow, his lips and mouth moving in just the right way to slide all the way down, carefully working along the underside of him, and then he slid back up, paying special attention to the head.  It really shouldn’t have been so intense, so overwhelming, but the slight rush of doing something so close to somewhere someone could see just amped up the danger, and the adrenaline, and Shepard always _had_ been the kind of person that would always let adrenaline guide him.

            Staying quiet just wasn’t in the picture either, his mouth opened to release a half-stifled groan while his mouth dipped all the way back down his length, mouth hollowing to build the pressure, creating _just_ the right kind of seal, the right kind of pressure, and Shepard groaned again, just a touch louder.

            He held him down, his hands rest on his hips, thumbs made gentle circles over the bone, reminding him that he was _here_ , and that he was going to hold him tight, catch him if he needed to.  As if Shepard really desperately needed a place to crash land, but it wasn’t that he _needed_ it, and they both knew that.  It was that it was _there_ , for him, if he wanted it.  That sort of respect that soldiers had for each other, the kind that meant they would both have each other’s backs.  The same kind of synergy on the battlefield, they had in these moments, bodies working still in some sort of dance, Shepard going one way, Kaidan the other, or coming together, knowing instinctively what they needed to do to make the other melt under their fingertips – or fall apart, as the case may be.

            There was a freedom, in that, knowing that there was someone who they could both fall apart around.  Someone they could trust to not let the secret out, and with Kaidan’s lips around him, it didn’t take long to feel that familiar warmth, a creeping sensation that had nothing to do with the heat of the shower take hold, drifting down from his head, down his spine, and hitting him straight in his stomach, and lower.  That heat taking hold, and all he could do was tip his head back, and expose his neck, even though he wouldn’t be able to mark that up at the same time.

            There was barely an announcement, it came with a whisper, not a bang, a hitch in his breathing, a groan that was all about _release_ , a sigh that settled deep in his chest, something warm and content, and _relieved_ , and Kaidan took it, like he often did.  Like this was more than just a duty, but instead something precious and treasured, every moment spent together, even if it was a quick blowjob in the showers of the Armax Arena, it was _something_.  Probably not the relaxation Joker was thinking of, but John Shepard had never done anything conventionally, and it seemed that neither did Major Alenko – although that may have been more Shepard’s influence than anything else.  The man _was_ adaptable.

            As evidenced by the way he finally let Shepard slide out of his mouth, lips quirking in a familiar, _almost_ over-confident smile, like he’d just taken on a secret, and Shepard wasn’t getting away that easily.  He never drifted far, his lips hitting against his thigh, his hips, his stomach – all the way up to his lips, and while there should have some shame, they _both_ rode the high of Shepard’s release, and kissed, sucked, and licked each other’s lips under the shower spray, until the water was chill, and Shepard had to swallow back the slight needy noise that threatened to escape.  _That_ wasn’t all that becoming of Commander Shepard, after all.

            “What do you say,” Kaidan piped up, his voice rough, thicker and heavier, still wrought with that coiled desire, lying as thick and as heavy as _other_ parts of him, “we head back to your place?” 

            Shepard’s reply, more a sharp smile, than anything else, said it all.


End file.
